


Another Chance

by Lonewritersclub



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Killing Joke (Comics)
Genre: AU: Another Chance, Ace Chemicals, Angst, Batcave, Batman: The Killing Joke, Body Horror, Enemies to...?, Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Red Hood - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-02-28 14:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18758494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonewritersclub/pseuds/Lonewritersclub
Summary: His voice is so different from what Bruce knows it usually to be. It comes out a little echoed due to the hood but it’s nevertheless so much softer, quieter and more tentative than Bruce remembers it to have been. The man in front of Bruce is scared like Joker never is.- The Bat travels back in time and tries to stop Jack from becoming Joker. Even after he hits the acid.





	1. The Start

It’s a whirlwind of everything flying right out of place and back into their old nooks and crannies. Colors and lights flash by Bruce’s shocked face, blinding and making him see clearer than ever before. It becomes a different time and a different circumstance. Bruce is relieved to find familiarity in the previous as he’s at least still right where he started – in the batcave.

Bruce checks the time and date on the batcomputer. He’s travelled fifteen years back in time.

Bruce merely swallows for a second, finger hovering over the keyboard. Then the screen turns on suddenly. An instant notification of a crime report inside the GCPD system comes on. Bruce clicks it open in spite of his confusion.

_… shootings at Ace chemical plant. Security camera footage shows a group of six unidentified men carrying rifles and handguns._

Bruce’s eyebrows knit together, ears training automatically to catch each and every detail he can hear.

_One of the men, lanky and tall, wearing a dark suit, is wearing the headpiece typical for the leader of the Red Hood gang. The suspects are seen shooting at the guards and are heading deeper into the plant’s restricted areas…_

Bruce’s mouth falls open. Then in the next second he’s already pulling his gauntlets back on and rushing to the batmobile.

Batman reaches the site under ten minutes despite the extensive distance from the batcave to Ace chemicals. The police hasn’t even been able to arrive yet.

The batmobile screeches to a halt right by the entrance door which has already been violently opened by the gang. Bruce spurs into a run towards the area where the chemical vats reside.

The fumes hit him in the face before he can even hears the bullets. Bruce forgot about them. The smell is gnarly and acidic. It makes his eyes water and throat burn. Bruce pushes himself towards the source.

The men are shouting something at each other. They are shooting at the guards trying defend the fortress. Bruce takes down four of them on sheer autopilot as he makes his way deeper inside. His mind is focused on something other than cracking bone and twisting the guns out of criminals’ hands. He’s trying to catch even a glimpse of the shining red hood. He’s trying to make out Joker’s whereabouts.

Bruce isn’t going to let him fall into that vat of chemicals this time. He can’t.

Bruce has to save Joker before he becomes who he is still this morning to Bruce.

It’s confusing and Bruce is trying so hard. He needs to.

Then finally, a glare of bright red running across one of the walkways overhead Bruce.

Two more men go down limp at Bruce’s hands on his way grappling towards Joker. With a kick to the other guy’s head, Bruce lands down onto the walkway right in front of Joker.

The man visibly gasps in horror behind the hood. He raises his white gloved hands up and cowers away from Batman.

“Oh! Aah, hey sir, I don’t want no trouble. You’ve got the wrong idea here, it’s not what it looks like”, he nervously tries to tell Bruce.

His voice is so different from what Bruce knows it to usually be. It comes out a little echoed due to the hood but it’s nevertheless so much softer, quieter and tentative than Bruce remembers it to have been. The man in front of Bruce is scared like Joker never is.

Bruce raises out of his hands, holding his palm out to convey that Joker has nothing to be afraid of but the man still starts taking slow steps backwards. He doesn’t notice that he’s backing towards the edge of the walkway railing that’s corroded to the point of breaking from any pressure.

Underneath them the steams of the dark green chemicals waft through the holes of the walkway making it hard to breathe.

Bruce is so close to stopping it – everything – from happening yet it feels like a million miles away from his power. Bruce reaches hands out further in effort to grasp the man by the lapels of his suit but he scurries just quickly enough not to be caught – and at the same time taking more steps towards his fall.

“Stop Joker!” Bruce yells out in desperation and tries to get a securing grip on him once more with the fumes messing up with his head and coordination. Yet the man is swift on his feet and he takes another two steps and he’s already beginning to lean on the railing, the iron starting to nearly crumble away under his gloved hand as it bends under the slight weight.

Joker doesn’t even notice it because he’s so taken aback by the name Bruce called him.

“What?” he asks bewilderedly and leans backwards in confusion. Bruce quickly steps towards him, trying to grab his arm as it stretches out in front of him when the railing gives away under Joker and his weight is shifted to the side only be caught by the air.

Joker’s whole body flails instinctively as his back arches over the edge of the railing and his whole stability is jeopardized and focused solely on his right foot. He yelps as he begins falling, the railing completely breaking off from under him and beginning to plummet into the chemicals below him.

Bruce reaches out his arm as far as he can, without losing his own stance at the same time, to catch Joker’s hand reaching back for his as afraid of him as he might be. Joker is falling into the vat of chemicals accompanied by a pleading scream.

Bruce cries out too as only the tips of his fingers manage to touch upon Joker’s extended hand.

The red hood comes off of Joker’s head in the mid of the fall revealing terrified green eyes looking directly into Bruce’s before they can be drowned by the steaming chemicals. His mouth opens up to a whimper.

“ _NO_!” Bruce screams. He fumbles for the grappling gun at his utility belt but finds himself too late because then Joker hits the acid.

Suddenly everything’s quiet in Bruce’s ears.


	2. Introduction

Bruce’s grip hangs onto the edge of the corroded metal for a moment or two more after the… after his failure. The grip tightens and tightens until metal starts to crumble underneath Bruce’s hands. He’s staring into the abyss of green sluggish chemicals, waiting for something, something turn back time again. But Bruce can travel only once more and that is reserved for him to get back to his own time.

Bruce’s body stays frozen on the very spot, unable to think about anything else than how he managed to once again fail the man Joker had been. The man whose chance of sanity would bring peace back into Bruce’s world. 

The longer Bruce stays there, however, he realizes nobody’s coming out of the vat of acid. Since Joker has to be born, he should emerge now. Yet nothing happens.

That is until Bruce realizes the man must have come out of the other end of the chamber. Bruce’s feet are moving before even his brain has really attained the knowledge of what he has to do. Bruce simply knows now, he _feels_ it, and he has to act fast.

Bruce grapples his way out of the hall and outside where the pipelines travel across the barren rain-soaked ground into the muddy puddle of a lake a half a mile behind the plant. Bruce makes it to the scene he can only hope to dear God is the right place for him to be.

There is nobody there yet, though. Or maybe Bruce is too late. Maybe he’s wrong.

Tainted water is dripping out of the biggest pipe leading to the six inches of more tainted water waiting in front the murky entrance of it. Bruce shines a light into the darkness inside it but it is empty. He ingests a deep swallow around the lump in his throat. Then he looks around himself, retrieving his night binoculars out of his utility-belt to make sure there is no one around in the two mile radius. That there is no Joker wandering around.

The area is empty, save for the odd car or two driving on the road beyond the tall restrictive fences surrounding Ace Chemicals. Joker might have hitchhiked his way out of here last time, Bruce wonders. He hopes he hasn’t already.

Bruce is getting agitated with worry and desperation. Besides not knowing what he would do if he did meet this freshly created Joker, Bruce really doesn’t know what he would do if he didn’t meet him. He doesn’t know what to expect. Has he already turned bad or does that come later?

Bruce feels so utterly guilty for not having done this the first time. He should have looked for the man after he fell into the acid but he had simply assumed he was dead by then. That there was no use, not to mention, time.

Bruce feels about ready to leave and search the other areas of the plant for Joker, feeling like he’s wasted already enough time and losing his chance to possibly reform the fallen man by just standing around helplessly. But something tells him to stay put.

Fortunately, just a minute later, Bruce’s intuition becomes rewarded.

He hears a cough first. Then a splatter and quiet splashes of water as the echoed sound of movements in the biggest pipe become close enough to Bruce to become audible to him. Bruce kneels to the ground hurriedly, looking inside the pipe, feeling both terrified and hopeful at the same time.

Bruce is just about to click his flashlight on when the man already stumbles out of the entrance down into the water. Bruce can barely see him in the cloudy dimness that is only slightly broken by the orange industrial plant lights tracking the side of the pipes. Bruce is just about to rush over to him but is stunned to stillness only a second later.

The man has got onto his knees and the overhead lights now wash over the left side of his face to reveal itself to Bruce.

It has become bleach white. Whiter than Bruce _ever_ remembered it to have been.

The man gazes into the waters below him and notices his reflection in them, too. His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, trembling white hands coming to touch his face but not quite daring to actually make contact. Instead they dive themselves into the strikingly green hair.

His deeply crimson mouth twists into a shape of horror as he grips at his hair in silent shock, still staring into the waters. He’s gripping and gripping until it looks likes about to tear it all out and Bruce is just about to finally get up and get to him but he’s stopped by what he hears next.

He thought he knew how Joker laughed. He thought that if he laughed again, he would recognize it as the devilish and crazed glee as it always is.

This is not it.

It’s broken. It’s forced out through the unshed sobs in his pale thin throat. It’s disorientated and disturbing. It’s unnatural – but nothing you wouldn’t expect from a person in this state of shock. It is vulnerable and resembles cry in the form of laughter.

Bruce watches him like he’s never seen him before. He’s never seen Joker like this. Bruce didn’t know. He thought that once he took his dive into the acid, he simply became Joker but this man in front of Bruce can’t be the same bad clown he knows him to be. And then Bruce realizes something else too.

In fact, this man in front of him hasn’t done anything bad yet to begin with.

He’s just been reborn, and to Bruce’s understanding, has no memories of the life he led before.

He’s entirely innocent.

… And shaken to his very core and Bruce is still just standing there, not helping him.

That snaps Bruce finally out of his thoughts and back into action. He stands up from his grouch and emerges from the darkness slowly and into the light. He doesn’t want to frighten Joker any more than he already is although he finds that something of an impossible task. He is Batman after all, how could he not be scared by him? Not to mention if he remembers even just glimpses of how he fell. It’d probably seem as though Bat pushed him.

Bruce walks a little closer to Joker who’s dry sobbing now, possibly hyperventilating his lungs out, but then stops a feet away from him for him to notice him first before nearing any closer.

Joker notices him out of the reflection in the water then and with a yelp falls to his side away from Bruce due to the scare. His brilliantly emerald eyes gaze at Batman, mouth hanging open, trying to take all of him and his imposing figure in.

Bruce immediately takes a slow kneel as not to appear so daunting and raises his hands up in a gesture of unthreatening.

“It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you”, Bruce speaks softly to him. With confusion, however, Bruce starts to notice that the stunned look on Joker’s tear-tracked face isn’t as much of an expression of fear but of awe.

Joker starts to lean back forward from the ground and is glued to Batman with an intensely unwavering gaze. Bruce reaches out his hand to him gently, palm side up. Joker’s eyes tentatively move to it but he seems too startled to take it.

“I’m Batman, I’m here to help”, Bruce says to him.

Then Joker tentatively reaches his pale hand towards him and places it lightly in Bruce’s palm. Bruce lays his thumb softly over the prominent, white knuckles and smiles reassuringly to Joker in his small but honest way.

Joker’s gaze travels from their intertwined hands upwards across Batman’s arm to his face in childlike wonderment. Bruce cannot fathom how this man could have ever been capable of the atrocities that lay in his future.

Joker opens his mouth then as to speak but halts in the middle of it. A bashful look washes over him.

“I-I’d tell you my name, Mr Batman, but, heh… I can’t seem to quite remember it”, he admits shyly. His voice is a little dry and raspy undoubtedly from the soak but otherwise it sounds like Batman remembers it.

Batman rests his other hand on top of Joker’s and looks to him with sympathy.

“It’s alright. Just tell me, are you hurting anywhere?”

Joker looks over himself, inspecting the damage a little bit, before answering.

“I don’t know. Everything feels a bit numb but when I’m touched but otherwise it feels like there’s a thousand razorblades underneath my skin and that my head is filled with bees”, he tells him with a sad chuckle at the end of it and glances at Batman with a painful desperation colouring his eyes. Bruce feels his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.

“Do you think you can stand up?” Bruce asks him then and straightens his own legs a bit. They need to get to the Batcave so that he can treat him. _If_ he can. Also, despite how calm and collected Joker seemed to be right now, that could change soon. Bruce couldn’t be sure of anything. He knew the results but what had caused them eventually was still a mystery.

What if it hadn’t been the chemicals, what if something else had happened instead which had on top of everything led to Joker’s mental breakdown?

Or were the effects simply delayed?

Joker looks a little lost but nods his head.

“I think I can”, he says and proceeds by cautiously standing up with Batman’s support. He whimpers slightly at first when they are upright, then hissing out harder and having to hold his head with his other hand while squeezing his eyes tightly closed. A grimace is plastered on his face as he curls up slightly.

Bruce places his other hand on his shoulder, steadying him. Bruce is increasingly worried.

“Are you okay?”

Joker slides his eyes open a bit, looking at Bruce from behind his thick green eyelashes. He answers him quietly, apologetically like he’s embarrassed. The tiring pain is evident in his voice.

“I don’t think so…”

Bruce nods his head.

“I’ll carry you”, he says. He waits for a second for Joker to understand what he’s saying before he gently scoops him up to his chest, arms holding Joker up from his waist and under his knees. Joker clutches Batman around his neck and rests his head on the Kevlar plating on his shoulder. There’s a very distinctive scent of something resembling bleach and lemons wafting off of him. Bruce has smelled it before on Joker, however now it’s naturally much more prominent and acrid in Bruce’s nose, almost burning him. He still holds Joker a bit firmer to his chest.

Joker sighs out tiredly and there’s another contortion on his face as fresh wave of pain hits him.

It seems to Bruce that time is beginning to run out and he needs to get Joker to a secure place sooner rather than later.

Bruce gets them to the batmobile swiftly enough, careful not to stir the man in his arms too much in case that made the distress worse. Joker quietly watches where they are going, pliant, quiet and drowsy, not even commenting on it when they reach the impressive automobile. Bruce suspects he’s about to fall unconscious.

He manages to sit Joker down in the passenger’s seat before he shuts down completely. He puts the seatbelt on him and while he’s there he casually checks his pulse from his neck. Joker’s heart is beating erratically, his head must be throbbing from that alone already. It doesn’t seem like he’s about to have a cardiac arrest, though, so Bruce hopes they can make it to the batcave before he has to get an IV into him.

Joker’s eyes are half-lidded and his gaze unfocused. Bruce doesn’t bother with an explanation when he cuffs his wrists to the seat, just in case. He presses his ungloved hand to his forehead that’s still slightly wet from water dripping on it from his hair. Joker feels cold to the touch.

Joker looks up at him then Bruce’s hand still placed on his forehead. He smiles to him a little.

“Thank you, Batman”, he says with a small voice, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

Bruce feels staggered by hearing Joker say this.

He also feels remorseful for not having heard it before. Bruce’s hand slides down to Joker’s cheek.

“It’s alright”, Bruce says after few moments. “You’re going to be okay.”

Joker keeps smiling as he nods his head a tiny bit. Then his eyes close fully. 

Bruce hopes he’s right. He hopes he hasn’t lost his chance yet. He hopes he’ll be able to keep his promise to Joker.

But he can only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I'm super happy to see so many people excited about the concept I have for this story! I was quite surprised by the positive reception actually but really I'm very glad about it. I do hope you like where this is heading at this point, too :3  
> Feedback is always appreciated, I'm always interested to hear what you think even if it's nothing more than "<3" or something. It can be criticism, too. Don't worry, I can take it :D  
> Thank you for the reviews left on the previous chapter, too, of course!
> 
> But hey, feel free to contact me on tumblr, too (@literallyabstract). You can ask anything, tell me some headcanons, prompts or anything :)


	3. Conflict

Joker remains unconscious even when they reach the batcave. Bruce lifts him out of the car and lays him gently on the gurney in the med-bay. Out of caution and something of a force of habit, Bruce wraps cushioned white cuffs around Joker’s wrists and ankles. He needs to make sure Joker won’t both fall down from the bed and also won’t harm anyone including himself when he wakes up.

Bruce hooks him to a saline dispenser and also takes his blood to test his toxin levels. The batcompeter presents Bruce with glowing red numbers after the results for the analysis are finished. No need to say, they are _high_.

Then again, with Joker they had always been just that. Bruce does try to make out what it could be about the chemicals that has had this effect on him, what it could be that will drive Joker off the brink. If it is the chemicals to begin with, that is.

Most importantly however Bruce tries to come up with an antidote for his condition. Even though he has already tried to solve it a million times before and has failed miserably each time, he hopes with these newer and cleanest samples he might able to figure something out. That is his aim at least right now.

Bruce sets the powerful batcomputer to sort through the different scenarios and variables to test their success probabilities for an explanation as to what could be the source for the possible effects later on. Meanwhile he goes back to check on Joker in the med-bay.

Joker is still resting rather calmly, not a twitch on his snow white face. Bruce wants to draw him a bath to get rid of all remnants of the chemicals on his skin – scrub it all off until he’s clean and well again and Bruce wouldn’t have to feel like such a failure once more. But first he needs to make sure he isn’t going to fall into a coma or worse.

Then the man on the gurney starts to stir. Slightly at first but it increases by the second.

Bruce regards it with a helpless expression, gripping the edge of the bed.

He’s just about thinking of sedating Joker when the trashing becomes too violent for the binds not to be uncomfortable and leave bruises, when Joker’s eyes suddenly snap open, wide and unseeing. His movements still immediately for a second or two but then they continue with even greater power behind each struggling tug and twist.

Worst of all, an animal like cry wrenches itself out of Joker’s raw throat, green head thrown back, face contorted with agony. It echoes inside the cave in its despair and anguish.

Bruce looks at him in futility, not knowing what to do. Pain medicines never usually work on Joker but he thinks he should at least try his best. He just really doesn’t want to accidentally overdose him.

Bruce injects a strong painkiller into the IV drip and waits in nervousness for it to do at least something for Joker to help relieve the pain.

Bruce lays his hand over Joker’s forehead again, this time covered in a fine sheen of cold sweat. That seems to surprisingly relief him somewhat or maybe Joker’s just trying to ease Bruce’s situation because then his screams start to quiet into more manageable whimpers and moans.

Joker seems to force his eyes open just to look at Batman. It is absolutely tormented.

“P-please”, he says through gritted teeth, “make it stop.”

Bruce looks at the IV drip and squeezes it lightly, eyebrows lifting into a sorry frown as he watches the liquid travel.

“I’ve already administered you a strong pain reliever. I can’t risk giving you more in case it shuts down your system”, Bruce tells him desolately. “Just try to hang in there for a little longer, it should start working soon. You can do this.”

His whole body shaking with the tremors of pain but Joker nods bravely to Batman though tears are brimming in his eyes. They are rimmed red but not just from crying. It seems like the symptoms of the acid bath are only beginning to truly show now. Everything about Joker seems very raw now, especially the most sensitive areas of the skin. His lips too look bloodied red and the white canvas seems to further deepen in its chalkiness. Purple veins are peeking underneath it, and Joker’s heart is beating faster and faster underneath Bruce’s fingers.

Bruce doesn’t know what makes him do it, decide that’s what he needs to do but he then opens the straps holding Joker to the gurney. Without further ado, he picks him back into his arm and takes the IV drip with them as he heads towards the large shower in the east end of the batcave.

Joker is falling in and out of lucidity and his eyes are closed again when Bruce lays him carefully on the dark grey tiles of the glass encased shower stall. Bruce proceeds by cutting through Joker’s damp black suit with a knife from the utilitybelt and undresses him fully. The man twitches slightly in his arms but it seems like the painkiller is working to keep him sedated enough for now.

The clothes feel thinner than they should which must be due to the acid biting through it. Bruce throws them into the trash and gets a fresh white towel on his way to place it under Joker’s head. Then he grabs the showerhead and turns on the water. He keeps it at body temperature and with a gentle stream before starting to wash Joker off.

Bruce doesn’t pay much mind to his bare figure, only taking notice of how thin he is. Joker’s quite small overall but he’s way under his recommended weight index. But that’s a concern for another time, Bruce needs to make sure that any remnants of chemicals have been cleaned off of him. Bruce grabs some antibacterial soap as well and washes Joker’s hair as carefully and thoroughly as he possibly can as with the rest of his body.

Bruce wants to say he’s surprised that the carpet matches the drapes when he washes Joker’s lower parts but he’s afraid this was common knowledge to him from before. When Bruce lifts Joker against his chest to wash his back, the man suddenly wraps his arms around his neck again. It looks like he’s awakening if only a little.

“I’m just cleaning you now to get all of the chemicals off your skin. Hopefully that might ease the pain, too”, Bruce tells him and runs the water over his back gently, his other hand holding Joker flush to his chest and rubbing the skin with soap. Joker’s skin feels a bit tight but otherwise uncompromised save for the change in colour. It actually feels very soft and silky as if there wasn’t any hair on him. Like the acid had singed all of the fine hairs off…

Joker sighs out, pressing his face into the crook of Batman’s neck a little heavier.

“It’s better now…” Joker says quietly, calmly, and Bruce has to halt his movement for a moment out of sheer startling relief.

“Good. That’s really good to hear”, Bruce breathes out gratefully and finishes washing Joker off. He sets the showerhead on the floor after turning of the water and leans out slightly to look at the man. He looks back at him with a warm, droopy smile, hands holding Batman’s shoulders. He tilts his head to the side looking at something behind Batman with a strange look in his eyes.

“There’s just this _one_ thing…”

Bruce frowns.

“… my head, it feels kind of _funny_.”

Bruce then cautiously follows Joker’s gaze behind his shoulder and spots the focus of his attention immediately. Terror fills Bruce’s insides with ice cold water.

Joker’s staring at the knife Bruce used to cut his clothes off. It’s on the floor just a couple of feet away from them.

Bruce whips his head back to look at Joker and automatically tightens his hold upon his hips exponentially. Joker turns his gaze back to Batman and with a sorrowful look he starts giggling uncontrollably. High-pitched yet deep and uneven. Disturbing. He hangs his head, hands still gripping Batman by the shoulders and when he looks back up blood is running down from his nose, ears and the corners of his eyes.

Bruce is frozen on the spot feeling like he’s lost the fight all over again. Blood dripping onto his hands as he tries to brush it all away from Joker's face and the man tries to bite his fingers. Bruce's jaw tightens and suddenly he's pinning Joker to the floor with him still giggling uncontrollably under his hold. 

Bruce hadn't managed to stop anything. He had failed. 

He had failed everyone. Especially Joker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If someone needs a shower here, then it's me. I need to get a shower. I need it. And if you don't mind me saying this, I wouldn't mind having a Brucie in there with me too, hehehehhe. J's a lucky guy aside for the fact that he's gradually going mad.   
> Anyway, so I'm trying to get pieces of what we know from the comic in here but scattering them around in different ways. Hope you don't mind all that and you're still liking the plot :)


	4. Resolution

"What is his name?” a fifteen-years-younger Alfred asks Bruce as he applies cooling medical cream on Joker’s skin. The said man lies on the gurney again, fastened down with cuffs and sedated to the point of unconsciousness on top of that. Bruce had been forced to do it – he had tried to hurt himself.

Back in the bathroom, he had slipped out of Bruce’s grasp. Joker had let out a whine of pain to which Bruce had immediately loosened his hold. He had gone for the knife of course but instead of attacking Batman like Bruce had expected, he had just stood there grinning at him, knife by his side.

For a second, Bruce suspected, he had in fact taken the knife as to defend himself. But when the man caught a look of himself in the giant mirror on the wall he evidently went berserk about it. He had laughed, shaking and unstable, staring at his reflection, bloody tears in his eyes.

He had taken the knife to his mouth.

“I don’t know”, Bruce sighs out and pulls the blanket from Joker’s lower body all the way up to his chest when Alfred’s finished.

“What are you planning to do?”

Bruce turns back to the batcomputer. It’s still going through the data, trying to find a potential antidote for Joker’s condition. Bruce slumps down in front of it. Alfred follows him and takes in the giant screens with an astute, methodical gaze.

“I don’t know”, Bruce says again leaning back in his chair and running his hand through his hair tiredly.

“Well, if it’s true what you’ve told me, Master Bruce, perhaps it’d would be most sensible to get him to a doctor.”

Bruce shakes his head, waiting for the batcomputer to be done with the analysis.

“I can’t. They’ll just send him off to Arkham.”

Alfred steps closer into Bruce’s area of sight from behind his chair and regards him expectantly. 

“And if you don’t me asking, sir, what is it that’s wrong with Arkham Asylum?”

Bruce could write a book about that topic but he cannot tell Alfred these things yet, it wouldn’t make sense for him to know such things at this moment in history. He has to brush the question off.

“He needs care they cannot provide. He’s staying here for now, until I figure out something better.”

“Very well, sir. Would you like me to prepare a room for him down in the cave then?”

For the first time in a long while Bruce smiles authentically. He gratefully looks up at Alfred.

“Yes, please.”

Alfred clasps his hand on Bruce’s armour clad shoulder then, just for a moment, and gives him a reassuring look. It may be a small victory, and in some ways it may not even count considering the context is completely different now, but Alfred’s never approved of Joker before, of Bruce going back for him, but this time he’s there by his side with a similar mind-set to Bruce’s. In the grand scale of things Bruce believes that to have a great effect in the end.

Bruce proceeds then by going through the material the batcomputer has offered him until now while Alfred continues on with his own duties. The analysis is completed by 78 percent. Bruce hopes it won’t take more than an hour to be done because Bruce is on a clock as well. He has only twelve hours to finish this mission. If he spends any more time in this timeline, he might cause something in the likes of a rupture to this world’s reality. Then again, it is vital that he succeeds with Joker. Otherwise, when he returns back to his own time, there won’t be much to come back to.

The results of the analysis so far don’t look too promising. Bruce is fairly certain no proper antidotes can be derived from them. Bruce wonders if there can be an antidote at all. What if Joker really is incurable?

Bruce gnaws at the inside of his cheek with his teeth. He walks back to the man lying on the gurney and as he watches him lie there, for once looking peaceful and relatively painless, he remembers.

There has been times when Joker has shown signs of recovery. Proved that there could be a chance for him to become better.

But none of those times, of true actual change, have been consequent solely of any type of medication. The pursuit of recovery and the actual chance of that being achieved has always been grounded in Joker’s own will to become better, for one reason or another.

Most of time it had been because of Batman. Because their game had become old and predictable and in need of changing up. Or because Batman didn’t appreciate him and his usual antics enough anymore so Joker needed to show him what he would be missing by going away. Other times, it was something very personal to him that made his want to change although Bruce never figured it out. Usually it happened after a particularly devastating clash between the two of them. Bruce would be so infuriated that he couldn’t even look at the man and Joker would stay in Arkham much longer than usual.  

Bruce rests his hand over Joker’s cuffed wrist thoughtfully. He could see a red string tying it all together now.

Abruptly a quiet, slightly croaky voice snaps Bruce out of his deep thought.

“What is happening to me?”

Joker is watching him with sleepy green eyes, placid but tormented by confusion and worry.

Bruce brushes his thumb over his knuckles in an effort to comfort. As he does it Bruce takes a look at his own bare hand and suddenly the realization hits him like a wall of bricks – he’s not wearing his cowl anymore.

Silent panic settles into his chest, leaving him absolutely breathless, thumb halting in its movement instantaneously as Bruce’s legs turn into led.

Joker has now seen who Batman is. He may be too wrapped up in his own personal trouble to really register that billionaire boy Bruce Wayne is Batman at the moment but he’ll remember. He’ll know.

Bruce looks at Joker with an alarmed gaze but the green one looking back at him remains soft and vulnerable, non-judgemental. Another realization starts to creep up on Bruce then. He begins to understand that this isn’t about him at all. It isn’t about who Bruce or who Batman is. It isn’t about what Batman needs to do and that Batman needs to save the world of the future from annihilation caused by Joker.

It’s about the man in front of him needing him.  

It’s about saving _him_.

Bruce breathes out slowly, a sad frown gathering ground on his forehead, and he pads over to stroke Joker’s green hair back that’s starting to dry in gentle waves around his head. Joker looks at Bruce, close to tears again, so close to hopelessness.

_It’s about saving the man who fell into the chemicals from becoming broken._

Bruce cards his fingers through his hair gently. He smiles to Joker in reassurance as Alfred did to him.

“You’re going to be fine”, Bruce tells him.

_And to save him, all Bruce needed to do is be there for him._

Joker brows lift up, lips trembling with the desperation to believe him. But he doesn’t have any proof. All he has are unfamiliar voices in his head and a body that doesn’t feel like his anymore.

Bruce squeezes his hand, the other one cradling his head. Leaning in slightly he looks at him with a promise in his gaze.   

“I’m here. I’m going to take care of you.”

_To search him out from the dark._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeyy, there's Alfred! You're welcome ;D   
> Anyway, this was so not how this chapter was supposed to go. I was supposed to have all this dialogue between B and J but nooooo, I just had to go and make it all "italics" and shit. In a way though I do like this way, too.   
> Maybe in the next chapter that's probably going to be the last one, it'll be more intimate and interesting. If you have any ideas on what you'd like to see next, leave them in the comments and hopefully I'll be able to include them in :)  
> Thanks for reading again!


	5. Results

Before Bruce’s time is up, he leads Joker into his room to rest in a more comfortable space.

The batcomputer luckily manages to come up with the results for the analysis of Joker’s blood and the toxins in it well before Bruce’s time limit. Unfortunately, though, they offer no comprehensive cures for Joker’s condition but that’s nothing Bruce didn’t already know to expect, even though the guarantee of his assumptions being correct isn’t anything he had hoped for. He had to try either way.

There is something interesting about the results though. Something Bruce might use to try and expel the last of the residual toxins out of Joker’s bloodstream right now so that they wouldn’t have even more time to cause further damage to him, and especially to his mind, by simply waiting for the body itself to naturally discharge of them.

Alfred helps Bruce concoct the formula. It’ll work rather like a carbon pill but it is something injectable so that it can get to work on Joker much quicker and specific to the chemical compound that needs to be removed. Joker spends an hour in the bathroom after that, heaving into the porcelain bowl. Bruce is there with him, rubbing his back and helping him stay upright in his weakened state. Joker’s throat is raw already and the throwing up is certainly not helping with that but it’s something that might hopefully be crucially beneficial to both of them in the long run.

After it’s all over, Joker is back on the saline drip and lying untied in his new bed. There is no way for them to reverse the mutations that have already taken place in Joker’s body, at least not with Bruce’s current knowledge of his condition and the resources to treat it. He tells Joker this so that he could start to come to terms with the fact from the very start as much as knowing it will hurt him. He already had Alfred remove the mirror on the wall and to substitute the empty space, he had hung up a painting of a flowery hillside on it instead. 

Joker looks pained by the information but he seems to understand. He simply thanks Batman for doing this much for him saying it’s “more than he could have ever asked for”. It causes Bruce to feel incredibly guilty once more but he supposes it is what it is, there is nothing more that can be done about it now. Whatever Joker will need from here on, however, Bruce promises himself to provide it. Doctors, therapy, medications, asking Superman’s help… Anything, Bruce will be there for him. He won’t leave him again. 

An hour before Bruce absolutely has to go, an hour Bruce spends staying by Joker’s side both looking over him and making sure he won’t hurt himself but also keeping him company, when some good news finally announce themselves. The drip has finished and Joker is looking a lot better than before, his pallor a slightly warmer tone and heartbeat much calmer. But most importantly when he opens his eyes from the much needed rest he had been taking, he looks at Bruce happily astonished.

He sits up on the bed and pats Bruce’s shoulder to catch his attention that the hillside painting had seized. Bruce looks at him and his big wide smile in surprise, for a second more worried than relieved.

“They are gone! They are gone!” Joker acclaims hands holding Bruce by his bicep in ecstatic joy.

“What do you mean?”

“The voices! The frizzy loudness in my brain. It doesn’t hurt anymore, Bats! Everything feels fine!”

Bruce grasps Joker’s hands in silent awe, his chest filling up with something lighter than air. He can’t believe it. He can’t believe it worked…

Without a single word, Bruce gathers Joker into his arms, tucking him snugly against his chest. Joker laughs happily, gratefully next to Bruce’s ear and for once it is music to him.

Ten minutes before Bruce has to embark on his journey, he hugs Alfred before going to see Joker once more and to bring him some playing cards to pass the time with.

Things may look promising right now but there is still no telling of what will happen in the next fifteen years. This may be the last time he’ll get to see his father-figure and tell him he loves him. Alfred looks quite stunned by the reaction, naturally, as Bruce has never been much of an emotionally sharing personality before. Somehow, Alfred still seems to know more than he should be able to and places a comforting warm hand over Bruce’s neck as they embrace each other like he did when Bruce was still small but the Wayne’s weren’t around anymore.

When Bruce returns to Joker’s side, the man looks a little puzzled and shy about something. Bruce takes a seat on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on the soft blanket over Joker’s thigh looking at him with a gentle, open expression. It seems to encourage Joker enough to voice his questions to him.

“Why are you helping me?” he asks in an honestly curious way. Like he couldn’t fathom a single reason why _anyone_ would help him. Like no one ever did even if he doesn’t remember his past. There must be a lot of other question running around in his head, too, from how Bruce found him to how Joker managed to find himself in this situation in the first place.

Right now, knowing Bruce’s intentions seems to matter to him the most which is entirely understandable, however something that Bruce has some trouble with answering. Also, it is rather caustic at the same time. After all, Bruce hadn’t helped him before. That is the plain simple harsh truth. Why is he helping Joker now? To save the world or to save him?

Does knowing the answer even matter or can both reasons be equally right? Bruce cannot tell – neither to himself or Joker. All he is left with is the truth and what he probably should have started with from the start.

“Because you needed help”, Bruce says. With a steady voice and calm appearance.  

Joker looks at him for a long moment before lightly frowning at it seeing through Bruce’s elusive answer. He seems to ponder whether or not to push it but the small, if even a bit sad, smile playing on Bruce’s lips seems to direct him into the suggestion that may knowing isn’t necessary at this point.

He lets it go with a tad of a sigh and lowers his gaze down to his hands at his lap.

“I still don’t know my name”, he says then. At first Bruce doesn’t know what to tell him. He glances at the serene painting just to avoid the reality of Joker’s question at first, but then he spots the pack of playing cards he brought from the corner of his eye. They are sitting on the bedside table already shuffled and played with.

Joker looks at Bruce with a waiting expression. He has no name to his identity and Bruce can’t possibly just come up with anything – nothing other than what his name is and what it will always be to him.

“It’s Joker”, Bruce says softly.

Unsurprisingly the man’s eyes go wide, incredulous of Bruce’s claim.

“What? How could that be my name?”

Bruce can’t help but huff out a bit of an amused chuckle but he still smiles to Joker in a meaningful way. He clasps Joker’s hand in his and strokes his thumb over his knuckles soothingly.

“Because you’re the wild card I need to have in my hand”, Bruce admits with his gaze lingering in the deep green eyes quietly. He had missed the way Joker looked at him now. How sincere it was in yearning for his attention. How he always seemed to understand him better than Bruce could understand himself.

Bruce asks then, softly.

“Will you be my Joker?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! How'd ya like this one? :) I think it was pretty neat even if I say so myself.   
> Either way, I decided to make a chapter 6 too because, well, originally I was gonna stuff the ending into this chapter but I think it'd have been too cramped so I separated the two of them. 
> 
> Also I have a nice idea for the ending so I'm pretty excited to write it actually but not yet, I gotta go brush my teeth now. As always, thanks for reading and hope to see you in the last one too!


	6. The Epilogue

Bruce returns to his home timeline in another blur of sounds, colours and flashes of lights along with a memory of promise from Joker by the side of his heart. Things move before him at incredible speed towards a future set-up – it is too much to bear for Bruce’s vision and he closes his eyes until everything has settled down again. He takes a calming breath, hoping to see the cave again when it’s time.

That not everything is destroyed. That the world isn’t collapsing on itself.

That his family is still alive.

When Bruce bats his eyes open, gingerly, he’s faced with immense relief by seeing that at least the cave is intact. Everything looks like it should be if not in fact –

Bruce whips his head around, turns on his feet, frowning in confusion as he looks around himself.

Everything looks impeccable but above all more advanced than ever. The computer screens are thinner and the image ever sharper than before. It almost looks as though the images were holograms, they just seem to pop out of the screens.

Out of the corner of his eye Bruce then spots the batmobile stationed at its usual place however the vehicle itself merely resembles what it used be. It’s so much sleeker and darker than it had been. Bruce is sure he couldn’t have seen it in the shadows if it hadn’t been lit up by the white led lights installed in the platform below the car surrounding it like a halo, so exceptionally it blended into the obscurity.

Bruce has to check the date and year on the computer to check that he’s landed into the right time. Yet it seems as though Bruce is exactly where, or rather when, he started – although everything is very much not exact.

What is more important to Bruce at this moment, though, was knowing what is happening beyond the cave. He taps on the keyboard switching on his trusted news channel into one of the brilliant screens and then nervously lifts his gaze to regard it.

Bruce’s mouth falls open in wondrous shock.

_… according to Mayor Aubrey James he has no affiliations to the mob chief in question which is in contradiction to the newly surfaced evidence from Falcone’s right hand man…_

Bruce switches the channel to another news station. Then another.

And another.

Bruce breathes out sharply, a smile forming on his face.

He did it. He actually did it.

There’s absolutely no news coverage being televised on any catastrophes, disastrous criminal activity or thousands of deaths. It is all mundane politics, corruption and sports reporting.

_… and we move onto next week’s weather report. John, what can we expect from…_

Everything is fine.

The apocalypse has been avoided.

Bruce… succeeded.

Bruce sits down into his chair with a happy sigh and basks in the relief and joy for what feels like a lovely eternity. He can barely believe it. Tears spring into his eyes without a warning. It’s incredible.

But then it suddenly hits him.

If all is well, what else is different now? He knows it has to have something to do with Joker but what did exactly happen? It might as well be that the end of the world was avoided on the expense of something else ending in a tragedy. Something even dearer to Bruce than what he lost before.

Or did Joker manage to truly stay on the straight and narrow?

If the latter is true, what was it that worked? What could it have been? Was it simply that Bruce was there for Joker at his lowest moment, or did he somehow manage to find a cure for his condition after all? Thoughts of endless possibilities run through Bruce’s mind.

He swallows.

He doubts it but still, even though just the thought of it is hard for Bruce to stomach, he wonders if, somehow somewhere down the road, he managed to break his one rule.

Nervousness invades Bruce’s mind yet again with hesitation and dangerous uncertainty. Bruce swiftly stands up from the chair and heads for the stairs. 

Bruce doesn’t know much but he knows this much – he needs to see Alfred. He needs to make sure him and the family are alright. And after that, he needs to find out what happened and what _is_ happening.

At the end of the staircase Bruce takes a deep breath at the landing outside the door before he can step into the actual manor. He settles his breath, knowing nothing good can come out of him panicking at this moment. Whatever waits for him outside, he’ll need to deal with appropriately. 

There’s no other way.

The office he walks into is empty. But just a few feet away from the room, Bruce can already hear voices. Many voices. Overlapping and distinctively different from each other. They are muffled but Bruce’s heartrate still picks up from nervous excitement. He tries his best not to get his hopes up. They could be anyone but Bruce’s footsteps quicken with eagerness either way as he comes closer and closer to the lounge they are heard from.

There’s already a spontaneous smile forming on his face by the time he’s reached the door.

“– for fuck’s sake, read a book once in a while, won’t you.”

_That has to be Damian_

Bruce pushes open the double doors without a second thought and the sight that is revealed before him catches his breath away. The brimming tears in his eyes drop down to his cheeks.

“Bruce?”

Alfred is the first one to engage him. He seems slightly taken a back yet in a positive manner thankfully. Bruce breaks into a huge smile.

Alfred is holding a silver platter of carrying the makes of an afternoon tea as he stand next to the couches set around the lit fireplace. And seated there Bruce finds his entire family, safe and sound, well and secure.

It feels as though the tears will never stop as Bruce sobs out in pure blissful delight.

They all look at him wondrously, almost worried to fright, obviously confused by Bruce’s emotional outburst. Dick is the first one to stand up, ready to take protective action. It is all, luckily, in vain but it does is give Bruce the perfect opportunity to rush over to him and embrace him in his arms.

“Thank God…” Bruce whispers with a teary voice as he kisses the side of Dick’s head fervently and holds him tightly against him, closing his eyes. Dick eventually wraps his arms around him, too, if slightly hesitantly from the shock of it all.

“Hey, Bruce… How’s it going?” he asks with a chuckle when they realize that despite everything, Bruce is happy actually and there isn’t anything truly dangerous to worry about.

Bruce pulls back a little then, smiling as he looks over Dick’s shoulder to everyone else: Damian, Tim and Barbara. Even Jason is there and for once he actually looks happy to see Bruce again.

“I can’t believe it worked… You’re all alright and the world isn’t ending”, Bruce says, partly because he can’t truly be convinced of it but also to look confirmation for the statement from the others.

Dick looks back at Bruce in further bafflement but he’s smirking in his light-hearted way as usual, too used to Bruce’s dramatics already by now.

“Yeah, the apocalypse is at least three centuries from now and we think Damian might actually grow into an adult finally now that he’s started to eat his vegetables.”

Bruce then laughs so hard he has to sit down. Everyone seems a bit freaked out by that actually and that’s no surprise to him either. Bruce is wiping away tears from his eyes while nearly hiccupping through his seemingly never-ending deep laughter that wonderfully helps to release all the built-up tension from his body.

“Now _this_ I gotta see for myself! What on earth could be making the broodiest bat of them all laugh in such way that even I, in spite of being the true honest comedian I am, have never been able to rouse from the moody blues.”

Bruce’s chuckles immediately start to quiet down when he hears that melodic voice and those light but unbashful footsteps recite from right behind the armchair Bruce has sunken into.

Bruce doesn’t need to turn his head around as the man himself confidently makes his way over to the centre of Bruce’s vision: his movements graceful yet untamed, figure slight and long, his flowy purple shirt, form-fitting pants and patent leather shoes, that green hair and pale skin, his grinning red mouth and captivating acidic gaze – it’s all so the same as before, so mesmerizingly identical that for the first time in a short while, Bruce becomes frightened again. Blood rushes from his face and Bruce freezes on the spot.

Yet the clown doesn’t falter with his sense of safety when surrounded by Bruce’s family. Most notably, none of them, not Dick, not Tim, not even Barbara nor Alfred pay much any mind to him at all. They are all looking at Bruce instead while Joker takes his seat amongst Bruce’s family on the couch, peacefully sitting down beside Tim and Barbara, head rested against his hand, elbow leaning against the back of the couch, legs crossed nonchalantly as he too, regards Bruce with curious attention.

“Okay, this is starting to kind of freak me out. Can you please tell us what’s going on, Bruce? Why you’re acting this way?” Barbara questions him in concern. Bruce opens his mouth as to say something but the words feel stuck to his throat and he cannot, for the life of him, rip his gaze away from green haired man seated so comfortably into his family’s life.

Joker doesn’t tear his eyes away from him either but he seems more humoured by it than anything. Although, Bruce wages he knows more than he lets on. He always does.

“Is something wrong, dad?” Damian then asks and the _name_ instantly captures Bruce’s full attention like a match had been sparked. Bruce looks over to him with a gaping mouth and more tears in his eyes before he can answer.

“No… No, Damian. Nothing’s wrong”, Bruce says and his smile trembles although it’s more genuine than it has ever been. “Everything is just right.”

A warm, gentle hand is then placed upon Bruce’s shoulder and when he glances up, Alfred is there again, supporting him in every way, every step of the way. Bruce claps his hand over it and happily looks over his family in the room, back together again and safe. Even bigger than before.

Bruce can tell all of them are dying for some proper answers but they have all the time in the world for that finally. Right now, all Bruce wants to do, is enjoy this present moment of having them all be here in his life again.

He just can’t believe the answer was so simple ultimately. That all he needed to do was be there for the man who fell in the acid. That he didn’t need to be able to save him from the fall even though that’s what he always thought doomed him from the start. It was to be there for him no matter what happened in the end.

Bruce still cannot know everything that happened in the meanwhile. He still cannot know for certain if all is entirely well altogether. He’ll certainly need time to adjust to his new reality and the changes his decision for the past has made. But it feels right to him. It all does. And Bruce is excited to learn more about this altered timeline and have it feel like home more than ever.

In the evening, after a long afternoon spent with the whole family, Bruce takes to his bedroom deciding he’s earned a night off from a patrol even though he’s never thought that before. Besides, he’s got the rest of his family to count on keeping the city safe.

Bruce does recognize the risks that decision alone brings them but he also understands that whatever happens, it can be get through. He already has plenty enough of experience behind him to have that faith. Needless to say, Bruce knows he needs the rest. If not for his body, but for his mind.

Bruce has learned he cannot control everything even if he so wants to. He’s had to learn it the hard way many a time. Instead he now knows that what matters is making the right decisions at the right time to the utmost best of his capabilities and do his greatest to right any wrong he might have done. Not everything can be avoided, accidents happen, and sometimes certains things are just up to fate. Bruce hates to know this but he cannot change these facts. He can only keep trying.

Bruce is simply trying.

And sometimes he fails. Terribly. Horribly. So awfully that he can’t bear the sight of himself in the mirror.

But sometimes he also succeeds.

Bruce is ever so grateful he succeeded in this.

Just when Bruce has got ready for bed and is taking his seat on the edge of the bed, the bedroom door is carefully opened. Bruce watches Joker slowly slide it until he could step inside, piercing green eyes focused on him. He almost seems shy, standing there in the doorway, waiting nervously for Bruce’s reaction.

It is still unnerving to Bruce to see Joker here. He looks so much like the person from Bruce’s previous life yet he’s evidently so different from him, his history completely altered from what Bruce remembers it to have been – just take Jason and Barbara as an example.

Bruce remains calm and nods to him.

Joker walks over to the bedpost at the end of the master bed and looks at Bruce with a small, soft smile.

“You’re surprised to see me here”, he states, ever-so-observant.

Bruce nods once again and motions for Joker to sit down beside him. He does.

“Your trip to Metropolis seemed to be a rough one”, Joker notes. Bruce snickers lightly. So that’s what Batman had been doing according to their knowledge. Or rather, not according to Bruce’s.

“Yeah…” Bruce huffs out with a humoured smile and stares at the floor in wonder for all that has happened. It’s comfortably quiet then for a second as Bruce falls back into deep thought, still trying to wrap his head around it.

Then Joker lays his hand over Bruce’s on the edge of the bed and looks at him until Bruce feels compelled to finally answer it completely earnest.

Joker is sympathetic towards him.

“You don’t need to tell me. At least not yet. But if you don’t… _know_ me, then just let me know if I cross a line. I wouldn’t want to surprise you too bad”, Joker says.

Bruce is in awe by the man’s smarts.

“I’d just like to know… if, if you’re alright?” Bruce asks quietly and looks to him carefully.

A corner of red lips tugs upwards.

“You mean my head, don’t you?” he suspects with a smaller voice understanding the cough.

“It comes and goes, but nothing that we haven’t been able to handle. You’ve really done a lot to help me, Bruce. But honestly, it’s this family that has helped me the most.”

Bruce gently squeezes Joker’s hand in his.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Joker smiles tenderly.

Then a sudden frown emerges between Bruce’s eyebrows.

“Is it… I think I heard Dick call you Jay earlier?” Bruce remembers and continues with a slightly embarrassing stutter, “Is that your- You’re name isn’t…?”

Joker giggles and swats at the hand Bruce has enfolded with his.

“Of course I’m still your Joker!” Joker reassures him immediately. There’s a knowing twinkle in his eye. “It’s just a nickname they’ve given me.”

Joker proceeds to tell all about it companied by grand dramatic gestures of his free left hand.

“Damien found it too weird to call me _Joker_ after he got addicted to playing card games with Tim. It kind of freaked him out to see a life version of the Joker card, weird hair and all! The poor thing even had nightmares about it for a whole week. But if you ask me, it’s just that he played one game of solitaire too many.”

Bruce can’t help but chuckle at that, shaking his head.

“But no, don’t worry. I didn’t just go to the registry to give myself some boring ordinary name on a cloudy old day. Why would I want to change the most delightful name of all when that’ll always be who I really am to you.”

Joker’s right. He’s so right, yet again. He’ll always be Joker to Bruce no matter how much he may change, or rather might have changed. Bruce knows him all the same even if he’s still got a lot to learn. Bruce turns to look at him.

Joker is all smiles as usual but so much closer this time. Somehow, there are only inches between their happy faces this time. Bruce finds himself lowering his gaze quickly then, the look in Joker’s vivid green eyes too much to handle so suddenly.

That’s when he notices the diamond ring. Joker had rested left hand on top of their clasped ones and there’s the brilliant sparkly diamond nested niftily into the golden band with eloquent strokes of gold going around it. Smaller green diamonds planted in to the band run around beside it. The white diamond is the eye catcher still, though not terribly big by any means but it’s beautiful and captivating.

And it’s staring right at Bruce.                                                                                                                                              

The realization is quick – Joker is _married_.

But the following understanding takes Bruce a longer while.

Bruce has seen no spouse around the mansion for the entire day he’s been there, and by the way Joker looks at him and the way the whole family has looked at them together this day gives Bruce a rather strong clue into who Joker might just be committed to.

Bruce checks his bedside table with a deliberate look. Surely enough, a gold wedding band sits on top of the glossy dark mahogany wood, waiting to be placed in to its rightful place on Bruce’s finger.

Joker, of course, notices this, the smart man he is, and unclasps their hands hastily. He doesn’t want to scare Bruce off. Bruce doesn’t know him like that yet. Of course. Joker has to understand.

Bruce doesn’t say anything. He simply turns to glance at him and finds that Joker is already giving Bruce more space than he could possibly need to take in the situation and to settle his thoughts but nevertheless. He’s even standing up from the bed already, going to escape the room.

“Okay, I think I’ll just go see if Tim has already put away his gear from clustering up my study. That little rascal! But then I’d better take your lead and hit the sack – right after my evening meds of course, gotta remember that…“ Joker fumbles hurriedly but just as he’s about to leave, Bruce grasps his arm and effectively stops him dead in his tracks.

The warm light of the bedside lamp paints Joker’s pale face in a stunned expression. But most of all, Joker looks worried. Even scared. 

Of Bruce’s rejection.

Bruce looks up at him. Coaxes him closer with a gentle pull.

“Wherever will you sleep tonight?” Bruce asks him quietly. Insinuatingly.

Joker searches for a right answer. Bruce takes pity on him. He pulls him to sit back down on the bed. The clown looks even more scared now.

Bruce sighs out a little and looks down at hardwood floor where the shine of moon has stroked a glow of white soft light.

“I’m sorry this happened. That I cannot remember”, Bruce tells him.

He takes the ring of the nightstand into the palm of his hand. There’s an engraving on the inside of it. A date three years later from the day they first met. Bruce smiles a little.

“But it doesn’t mean what we have had is gone. I may not know, but I can feel it, Joker.”

Bruce looks back at Joker. Into his eyes as intense as they are. He feels braver this time.

“I still feel it in my heart. I still love you, Jay.”

A huge teary smile breaks onto Joker’s face from that. He sobs out a sigh of relief. Bruce takes both of his hands back into his.

“I’ll learn to know everything that happened. But what comforts me the most, is knowing there’s now a possibility for me to be able to make new memories with you together. It’s going to be okay. We’re both here and I love you.”

“Oh, _darling_ ”, Joker breathes out, his eyes welled up with tears but sight in them blissful beyond comprehension.

Bruce offers him the ring. He looks at Joker.

“Will you do the honors?”

With a happy laugh Joker slides the polished golden band onto Bruce’s ring finger. It fits perfectly.

Once it’s there with a sudden overwhelming yearning feeling tightening his chest, Bruce reaches his hands up to Joker’s face and gently cradling his love in the warmth of his palms before bringing their lips together in a solvency of tenderness. Something comparable to a moment of heaven.

Joker melts upon his touch, falling inside Bruce’s embrace of affection.

The glimmer of the moon softly pads across the coolness of the floor through the night as they lie together looking toward the new day Bruce is so grateful to have arrive.

And despite the madness of the thought, somehow Bruce feels himself even more fortunate for holding Joker in his arms this night. Having all of his family under the same roof and Gotham waking up to another sunrise once again.

Looking at the beauty of the healed man in his arms sleeping soundly, Bruce smiles in the comfort of the dark with tears quietly sliding down from his eyes.

He doesn’t understand how he did it, even if he knows.

Bruce counts himself lucky either way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dear readers,  
> you must be over a hundred years old by now. Happy late birthday! :3
> 
> I know. I'm terrible. What is it? Almost three months since the last upload? I do apologize but I hope you can understand when I say that things got very hectic in my life for me right after I posted the previous chapter and then after that I simply kind of fell out of this story and didn't know where to take it. But yeah, I finally got back on the jumping horse and here is the long awaited, but also the longest chapter, ending of the fic. I do hope you enjoyed it even if you didn't quite remember anymore what had happened before :D
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of it, of how things worked out for these two fools and what you think might happen for them in the future. I'd love to hear it! Also, if you have any questions, leave them down below and I'll get to them all soon! (I'm for real this time :D)  
> If you liked this one, do check out some of my other works too, if you're interested!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Have a lovely day! <3
> 
> Toodles!
> 
> (send me headcanons and stuff! -> tumblr @literallyabstract)

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii! How'd ya like it then? :) 
> 
> Also, send me some headcanons and prompts on tumblr (@literallyabstract)!


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